Te regarder, me taire

The words flow as if someone is writing notes in the margins of someone else's diary - a little uneven, with reservations, but all the more honest for it. There are tired jokes, confessions, and attempts to hide the pain behind a mask - like antiseptic under the eyes that still can't hide the tears.

The music is held together by a light carelessness: as if the conversation began by chance and dragged on until dawn. Inside, there is a simple thought: sometimes the most important thing is just to look at the person next to you and see a whole dictionary under their eyelids, containing everything they cannot say. And even if the world around them is noisy, spinning, and speeding up, the feeling remains that these two people found each other precisely in this imperfection.